


This Is My Kingdom Come

by O4amuse



Series: Not Wrong, Just Different [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Anal Sex, Bigotry & Prejudice, Doctor Castiel, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Gabriel Being Gabriel, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, John Wyndham, Kali suffers no fools, M/M, Mutant Powers, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Apocalypse, Praise Kink, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Purgatory, The Chrysalids, radiation poisoning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/O4amuse/pseuds/O4amuse
Summary: Sequel to The Last Free Place, and will make no sense without having read that!-------------------------------------------------------------------Dean has settled down in Purgatory to married bliss. The trading agreement with Lawrence is going well, his herb garden is sprouting, and one of these days Cas is going to let him punch Gabriel in the face. Life is good.But in such Cold times, others have noticed Lawrence's increasing prosperity and they want a piece for themselves. Once again, Dean finds himself torn between Normals and Blasphemies as he fights to defend the people he loves. And now he has so much more to lose...UPDATES WILL BE SPORADIC AT BEST UNTIL I FINISH MY DISSERTATION





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Last Free Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8773012) by [O4amuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/O4amuse/pseuds/O4amuse). 



> Title based on the song 'Demons' by Imagine Dragons:
> 
> When the days are cold  
> And the cards all fold  
> And the saints we see  
> Are all made of gold
> 
> When your dreams all fail  
> And the ones we hail  
> Are the worst of all  
> And the blood's run stale
> 
> I wanna hide the truth  
> I wanna shelter you  
> But with the beast inside  
> There's nowhere we can hide
> 
> No matter what we breed  
> We still are made of greed  
> This is my kingdom come  
> This is my kingdom come

It was morning. Dean hated mornings. Dean especially hated mornings after consuming an obnoxious quantity of Cain’s home-brewed alcohol and whatever the hell that stuff Gabriel’d cooked up was. The asshole had said it was made from berries and ‘genuinely healthy, Deano, good for the liver’. He must’ve already been pretty drunk at that point - when he was sober he knew better than to listen to anything Gabriel told him.

A pause in the breathing beside him, followed by a long pained exhale, suggested Castiel had woken up in a similar state.

  “Your brother,” Dean announced, “is a dick.”

  “He didn’t force you to drink anything,” Castiel said in that gravelly not-yet-warmed-up voice that never failed to heat the pit of Dean’s stomach. “How did we get home?”

  Dean squinted with his eyes shut. “I think Sam was being a responsible adult. Did he… did he haul us up in the cargo net?”

  There was a moment’s contemplative silence at his side. “You were yelling about being a flying squirrel,” Castiel said at last, sounding faintly amused.

  Dean opened his mouth to deny it and his mind rebelliously held up a picture of giggling and flailing limbs as his little brother hauled him up into the treehouse. “Why was Sammy sober at his own boyfriend’s birthday?” he said instead. “Did they have another argument?”

  “Kali did tell me Sam’s moved out again.”

  “I’m gonna kick Gabriel’s ass.” Dean sat up and immediately flopped back against the pillow as his head and stomach both strongly objected at the sudden movement. “Later.”

  “Later,” Castiel agreed, rolling over to snake one arm around Dean’s waist and nuzzle a cold-tipped nose into his hair, breath warm against his nape. Long fingers idly began to trace patterns on his chest.

  “Cas, sweetheart, I’m all for carrying on the party but I could really use a fixer-upper first.”

Castiel sighed into the dip between Dean’s shoulder blades, sending a little shiver down his spine. The hand on his chest flattened, growing abruptly warm, and his hangover melted away.

  “You’re the best,” he said, turning over and running his fingers through Castiel’s mess of hair.

  “I know,” Castiel agreed, smiling sleepily up at him. “But I advise you not to let my husband hear you say so. He’s the jealous type.”

  “Damn straight.” Dean pressed a soft kiss to Castiel’s eyebrow. “Can you blame me? I keep expecting you to come to your senses and realise how much better than me you could do.”

  Castiel tightened his grip on Dean’s shoulders and rolled them until he had pinned Dean, holding him down. “You know it aggravates me when you say such things,” he growled. “You are the best man I have ever known. I understand your father’s terrible parenting skills mean you cannot see it in yourself, but you could at least trust my feelings.” He dipped his head and took the lobe of Dean’s ear between his teeth. Dean bit back a groan as the hot tension shot straight to his groin, and he pushed up against the muscled weight of Castiel’s thigh. “I love you, Dean Winchester. Get it into your skull.”

  “Not providing a whole lot of incentive to stop aggravatin’ you, here,” Dean gasped, running his hands down Castiel’s back to pull their hips tighter together.

  Castiel pushed himself up on his hands, which rubbed him harder against Dean’s throbbing cock. “I could get out of bed.”

  “Don’t you fucking dare.”

  Castiel chuckled and sat up, knees framing Dean’s ribs. He curled his hands tightly around Dean’s wrists and pushed them deep into the pillow. “Are you ordering me around, Dean?”

  Desire shot through Dean’s arms and chest, making his muscles tremble. He arched his back, stretching into the want. “Offerin’ a strongly worded suggestion, is all,” he said breathlessly.

  “You are so beautiful like this.” Castiel rocked back slowly, press and release, press and release against Dean’s groin. “Stretched out and relaxed, and all mine. I could watch you for hours.”

Dean closed his eyes, unable to bear meeting the love in Castiel’s eyes, the weight of it on his lungs. The words caught at his throat, still clawing though the sting of it was less than it had been a few months ago. Castiel knew him inside and out, knew how hard it was for him to accept adoration, and was slowly gentling him to it. Because he knew, too, how much Dean needed it, deep down, hating the need but craving the words. So he poured them over Dean’s skin unstinting as they moved together, a slow build of breath and touch, skin against skin, golden in the morning light. Dean shivered and writhed under Castiel’s trailing fingers, letting go of control and learning to just feel. He bucked when Castiel knelt up to open himself, and then all the strength ran out of him as Castiel eased down around his cock, the hot tight rightness of it, and rode him slowly, steadily, without haste, holding him safe and still and accepting under those strong hands and that beautiful body which stuttered and arched in one glorious tense line as Castiel came over his chest.

  “Come for me,” Castiel breathed, blue eyes wide and shining, face flushed. “Come for me, beloved.”

On a swell of light and heat and intense choking emotion, Dean emptied himself into Castiel’s body with a groan. He took a long, shuddering breath, eyes shut, and an unbidden smile stretched his lips as Castiel’s warm weight pressed down on top of him.

  A piercing whistle shattered the promise of drifting calm and Gabriel’s voice, obnoxiously cheerful for a man who’d drunk at least as much as Dean last night, sounded just outside the door. “Cover up, boys, I’m coming in.”

  “I’m gonna kill him,” Dean swore.

  “No, you aren’t.” Castiel pulled off with a scowl and tugged the blankets up over them both. “Because I am.”

  Gabriel bounced into the treehouse with wide arms and a manic grin. “Hey, I waited ‘til you were done. The soul of consideration, that’s me.”

  “The soul of something, alright,” Dean muttered, glowering.

  “What do you want, Gabriel?” Castiel said flatly.

  “Can’t a guy just want to spend time with his little bro and bro-in-law?”

  “If that’s all you are here for, Dean is going to throw you off the platform and I won’t stop him.”

  “Chill, Cassie, sheesh.” Gabriel pouted. “There’s a messenger from Lawrence nearby, yelling for your boy here.”

  “Why can’t Sam go?” Dean said grumpily, reaching for his clothes.

  “I, er… I haven’t seen him today.”

  “Let me get this straight. You interrupted our morning sex because you’ve pissed off my brother so much he’s avoiding you?” Dean wriggled into his pants without flashing anyone and threw a disgusted look at Castiel. “You sure I can’t kill him?”

  “I waited!” Gabriel repeated emphatically. “You can get your cuddle-fix later.”

  Dean tugged his shirt on and emerged with a growl. “I don’t cuddle, and if you tell anyone otherwise I’ll punch you so hard people who _look_ like you are gonna bleed.”

  Gabriel clutched at his chest melodramatically. “Cassie, you hear how violent your husband is towards your only brother?”

  “It’s one of his many attractive traits,” Castiel said with a smile, tilting his chin up to receive Dean’s goodbye kiss. “Stay safe.”

  “See you later.” Dean grabbed his knife and strode outside. “Gabe! Move it or lose it.”


	2. Chapter 2

The two of them made their way swiftly south, in the direction of Lawrence. Dean took his share of patrols around Purgatory, hunting for meat and keeping an eye out for threats, both two-legged and four. Usually, though, he paired off with Benny. He and the headman worked well together, an easy camaraderie with little need for speech. Gabriel, on the other hand, did Not. Shut. Up. The Blasphemy broadcast a constant stream of thought straight into his brain, until Dean was fully prepared to strangle him and hide the body under a bramble patch. When he started oversharing on the kind of thing he, Kali and Sam got up to in the bedroom, Dean finally snapped.

  “I swear to God, Gabriel, if you don’t put a sock in it I’m gonna shove your own teeth down your throat.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “I just thought you might need some ideas for spicing things up with Cassie.”

  “We’re doing just fine, thanks. And I absolutely do not need to know what you get up to with my little brother. Although, since we’re in the same geographical area as the subject, I do wanna hear why he’s not talking to you again.”

  “It was totally not my fault this time!” Gabriel protested. 

  “Really.”

  “Well… not totally my fault, at least. Ruby’s been daydreaming over Sam for a while so I invited her to join us. I thought everyone could have a good time that way. But Sam got all prude-y and stormed off, and wouldn’t talk to me all last night even though it was my birthday.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, and reminded himself that Castiel would be irritated if he had to walk all the way out here to heal a broken rib. Besides, the last time he’d got violently protective of his brother’s honour it had only served to make Sam forgive Gabriel faster. He didn’t get it, he really didn’t, and maybe this time he’d make Sam sit down and actually explain what the hell he saw in the guy. 

  “Is this a bad time?” a voice called from up ahead. 

  “Jo!” Gabriel said with enthusiasm, throwing his arms wide. “If it isn’t my favourite little blonde hunter.”

  Dean decided hugging Jo was more important than punching Gabriel, at least for now. Especially given the worry that was tightening the lines around her eyes. “Hey, Jo. How’s everyone?”

  “Fine, thanks. Mom and Bobby say hi, and Charlie wants to know if the mint’s bedded in properly.”

  “Doing good so far.” He watched her eyes check the trail behind her for the third time and decided that was enough small talk. “What’s going on?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “We’ve been trading some of the stuff we get off’f you guys in Topeka. It fetches a good price there, especially the fish. Fresh food, rare, you know how it is. Mostly people don’t ask where it’s from, and we tell the ones that do there’s a place downriver but we aren’t gonna share the details for fear of poaching.”

  Dean folded his arms and waited for her to get to the point.

  “We’re doing okay. More than okay. So someone began to pay attention. But I swear, Dean, we didn’t see anyone following us and we’re always careful, you know that.”

  He began to feel genuinely concerned. Jo was usually level-headed - she wouldn’t get this wound up over nothing. “They found Purgatory?”

  “We don’t think so. Your illusions make it basically impossible. But they must’ve figured it out some other way. No one buys from us any more, and the looks we get… I’ve heard what they’re saying, about how we’re in an unholy agreement with Blasphemies.”

  “You think they’re going to attack Lawrence,” Gabriel said abruptly. 

  Jo nodded. “Faith’s just the excuse. They want our stuff.”

  Dean frowned. “Yeah, but attacking another settlement? It’s a hell of a risk, and expensive, marching enough people all the way from Topeka. Talk’s cheap.”

  Gabriel patted her gently on the shoulder. “You need to tell him, Jo.”

  She swallowed, and met Dean’s eyes with apparent effort. “Your dad’s there. We think… we think he’s pushing for it.”

Dean took a step back. Then another. He held himself very still and small and quiet inside. No sudden movements, nothing that might crack the crust. The cool calm that filled him was a fragile thing, ice in sunlight, and he was distantly afraid of what could replace it. 

He hadn’t seen his dad in months. Not since he and Benny and Kali had walked into Lawrence, smiled in the face of a mob, and laid down the foundations of their current trade agreement. John hadn’t been too happy about that, shouting about Blasphemies and Godliness. When Dean sent news of his engagement back to Lawrence, his dad hadn’t replied. Nor had he come to the wedding, and although Dean acknowledged that was probably for the best it had still hurt. He’d told himself then that he was over the man. After beating him for years, and trying to get Sam executed for Blasphemy, that last slight had been the final straw. 

But it was one thing to accept his dad wanted nothing to do with him. The news that John was prepared to raise an army to hunt him down - that was a whole other ballgame. 

  “It isn’t personal, Deano,” Gabriel said softly. 

  “Oh, it is,” Dean managed to respond. 

  “Greed’s a powerful driver...”

  “Shut up.”

  Jo jumped in quickly. “He left about two months back. No one respected him after the whole Lilith thing, and he never could swallow trading with Purgatory. We didn’t know where he’d gone - to be honest, nobody really cared by then. Bobby said there wasn’t any point telling you. We had no idea he’d sell us down the river.”

Dean walked away from her, stiff-legged, his feet feeling very distant. He couldn’t risk staying, not when the ice was cracking. Hitting Gabriel was one thing but Jo didn’t deserve to be collateral damage. 

There was a tree in front of him. He considered it. A beech tree, smooth-barked, thicker than him. It would do.

He hadn’t realised he was moving until pain exploded across his knuckles, a shockwave that travelled all the way up his arm. Lava erupted through his veins, overwhelming his senses. He couldn’t contain it, didn’t even try. It roared out through his mouth, filled his muscles with power, evaporated his thoughts. He punched the tree, over and over and over, dimly aware of the impact, not attacking because it was John but because it was  _ there _ . 

It was only a minute before the fire drained away, leaving him hollow and shaking. His hands throbbed, blood and puffing knuckles. He ignored them, and turned back.

  “Castiel’s on his way,” Gabriel said.

  Dean ignored him too. “I’ll come over tomorrow,” he told Jo. 

  She nodded, carefully not looking away from his face. “I’ll let the Elders know to expect you. And Dean? For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

Dean walked away from her, from them both, from everything they stood for which the Winchesters had put under threat again and again. He didn’t pick a direction, he didn’t think, he just walked until there was nothing to hear him but trees.


	3. Chapter 3

He got back to Purgatory a little after dusk. The quality of his anger had changed; now it simmered gently and darkly at the back of his mind. His hands were steady when he held them up for inspection, although he knew Castiel would have sharp words to say about the state of them. A small part of him felt guilty about staying out so long and letting his husband worry, but if he’d gone home before he got his temper under control it would have been worse. 

The treehouse was empty but there was a covered bowl of stew left for him on the side. He ate a couple of bites out of duty but couldn’t stomach the rest, even though he hadn’t eaten anything all day. When he was done, he sat on the bed and looked blankly at the floor. It needed sweeping. Castiel had nagged him about it yesterday. 

He stayed sitting.

It was his fault. Lawrence and Purgatory would never have even tried to trade if he hadn’t pushed for it. He’d been so determined to break down the barriers between Normals and Blasphemies, just because it made his life easier. Because it meant he didn’t have to choose. But people had been hurt then, and they were going to get hurt now. If he’d left the world the way it was supposed to be, none of this would have happened.

  “That’s bullshit,” came a voice from the doorway. Sam ducked inside, pushing his hair back with a frown.

  “Thought we’d talked about you eavesdropping.” 

  “I was tracking you. Cas was worried.” Sam folded himself down on the end of the bed. “And you’re wrong. If you hadn’t pushed, got people talking instead of killing, I’d be dead. So would a lot of our friends, on both sides of the fence.”

  “Get outta my head, Sam.”

  “It doesn’t take telepathy to know you’re working out how this is your fault.”

  “Ain’t a complicated equation.”

  Sam made an irritated noise. “Did you sell anyone out to Topeka? This is on Dad, not you, and if I was the one sulking in my room you’d tell me so yourself.”

  “I’m not sulking,” Dean said, insulted. 

  “Dean, you didn’t even light a lamp when you came in.” Sam nudged him in the ribs with one overgrown elbow. “And I’ll tell you what else - if you run off on some kind of suicide mission to solve everything alone again, Cas’ll skin us both on principle.”

  “Worked out okay last time.”

  Sam rolled his eyes so hard Dean could see it in the dark. “Yeah, I saved your ass from hellhounds and then Cas got shot.”

  Dean grunted, grudgingly acknowledging that his brother might have something resembling a point. “Where is Cas, anyhow?”

  “Everyone’s at Benny’s, talking about what to do. He sent me to get you.”

  “What, he couldn’t come himself?” Dean felt a surge of panic that he’d finally worked through Castiel’s near-infinite patience, which he quickly covered with irritation.

  “We figured you’d be pissy as all hell - my words, not his - and I’m more willing to fight with you. He’d coddle you and you’d take that as permission to be a bitch, which isn’t going to solve anything.”

  “Gee, thanks for the brotherly concern,” Dean said wryly.

  Sam shrugged and heaved himself up. “Tell me I’m wrong. You coming?”

  “Sammy…” Dean’s voice cracked a little, and he coughed to cover it. “You don’t… you don’t think maybe we should go? They’re coming for us. If we stay here -”

  “They’re coming for greed,” Sam said firmly. “They’ll kill Blasphemies if they can, but this is a raiding party. Us leaving just means there’s no obvious point of coordination between Purgatory and Lawrence.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Dean rubbed at his mouth and got to his feet. 

 

Benny’s door was open, and full of bodies. The whole village had crowded into his front room, which was barely big enough. The headsman stood at the far end, leaning heavily on the table, whilst various conversations went on around him. As Dean pushed his way in, Sam at his heels, Fergus Crowley’s nasally voice made itself heard.

  “I don’t see why we should lay our lives on the line for them,” he said. “They may be trading partners but that doesn’t translate to a full-on alliance.”

  “And guess who’d be on the front line,” Meg added sharply. “We’re the ones with special skills. We’d end up doing all the fighting, and the Normals would kill us with extreme prejudice. Possibly even from behind.”

  “It wasn’t so long ago we were in this very room debating whether to go to war with Lawrence,” Balthazar said, nodding. 

Dean clenched his fists, heat sweeping up from his collarbone to his crown. He’d never liked Balthazar, and Meg was plain bad news. Before he could shout them down, though, Gabriel smiled lasciviously at Meg.

  “I thought you liked being impaled from behind,” he said and waggled his eyebrows. Meg glared at him, Balthazar snorted, and some of the tension went out of the room. “Here’s the thing, champs. Lawrence is on the block because they’ve been working with us. You really think this little rag-tag army is going to be content with half the prize? They’ll torch the place and then come looking for us. Can we win that fight? I don’t know. But we stand a hell of a lot more chance if we’re fighting with our friends, rather than after them.”

  “We’re not friends,” Crowley sneered.

  Gabriel shrugged. “So no one here likes Sam?”

There was an abrupt quiet. Heads turned and feet shuffled, until there was suddenly a clear line between the table and the Winchesters. Gabriel looked slowly round the room, making eye contact. 

  “Now, I’ll be the first to admit that Dean is an irritating, opinionated, loud-mouthed, arrogant idiot…”

  “Thanks,” Dean muttered.

  “But he’s also the man who brought a regular supply of fresh herbs and cheese to Purgatory, so I’m willing to cut him some slack. And his pet moose is just adorable.” Dean thought he could hear Sam grinding his teeth at that, but Gabriel carried on oblivious. “They’ve hunted with us, built with us, been part of this community for a year now. We’d be weaker without them and you all know it, even if you don’t want to say it.”

  “So you’re in the Winchester Fan Club,” Meg interrupted with an unpleasant smile. “That isn’t news, Gabriel. What’s your point?”

  “My point, little nutmeg, is that they’ll be leaving very shortly.” Whispers started up almost immediately. Dean and Sam exchanged quick glances, not sure where Gabriel was going with this. “Of course they are!” he said, raising his voice. “They’ve still got friends and family in Lawrence, and if you think these boys are just going to sit back and watch them get attacked without lifting a finger then you haven’t been paying attention. So really, the question comes down to this: are you going to hide here and hope they don’t need you to win, or are you going to help?”

Castiel was on his feet as soon as Gabriel finished. The scrape of his chair pushing back was the punctuation between speech and silence. He glared round the room with those fierce blue eyes, until he reached Dean. Then his face softened. Dean held his gaze, putting all the gratitude he could into his face. He didn’t deserve this man, could barely believe he had him, but he thanked the unlistening God that Castiel looked at him that way. 

There was movement in his peripheral vision. Kali slid out of the crowd to stand beside Sam, who smiled gratefully down at her. She didn’t return it but there was an eager edge to her expression. 

  Gabriel grinned at them both, bright and sunny and impossible. “Well, obviously.”

  With a put-upon sigh, Balthazar stood up. “I can’t believe I’m signing up for this.”

  “Thank you,” Castiel said, low and emphatic. 

Gabriel looked at Benny, who slowly shook his head. Dean bit back a jolt of hurt. Other than Castiel, Benny was his closest friend in Purgatory. He’d assumed his help would be there for the asking.

  “I can’t,” Benny said, and he sounded regretful. “If most of Purgatory chooses to stay here, I gotta stay with ‘em. And I ain’t ordering no one to fight. But what I will do is make sure Lawrence stays supplied, even if you get cut off.”

  Dean caught his eye and gave a curt nod. “Thanks, man,” he said gruffly. 

  Sam dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked at the small group of volunteers with a grim smile. “Okay. Let’s take the fight to them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super slow updating. I am deep into dissertation territory so every spare moment ought to be spent writing that. But whenever I can justify a break, I promise I'll come back to this.


	4. Chapter 4

The six of them left Purgatory early the next morning and made their way through the forest towards Lawrence. They walked in single file, taking a less than direct route - standard procedure to minimise discovery, now that travel between the two settlements was common enough to risk wearing a path. They emerged a little way south, and paused on the treeline to warily survey the terrain. 

  Dean shaded his eyes with one hand. “Is it me or is that dust to the north?” 

  Castiel squinted against the sun. “It is not you.”

  “Well, they didn’t waste any time getting here,” Gabriel said cheerfully, hoisting his pack higher. “Today promises to be an interesting one. What do you reckon, Samsquatch? Sneak in the back door?”

  “Why hide?” Kali said with a note of contempt. “We can take them apart.”

  “We have no idea what we’re facing,” Sam said. “Best not to tip our hand before we have to. There’s a postern gate behind the goose pen. They won’t see us from there. I’ll let Jo know we’re coming.”

  Balthazar flapped a languid hand. “Lead on.”

They crossed the scrubland quickly, hunched low. Dean brought up the rear, thighs cramping, every sense alert to the noise they were making. Sam had a hunter’s stealth and Castiel walked like a cat anyway, but Gabriel and Balthazar seemed to stand on every dry twig available in a 200 metre radius. As for Kali, she seemed to take their non-confrontational approach as a personal insult, walking with head up and making no attempt to minimise her silhouette. Dean understood where she was coming from but there was a difference between flinching from a fight and good strategy. 

If he were leading a large-scale attack he’d have scouts out ahead of the main force, scoping out the land and gathering information. Although, honestly, it wouldn’t be him in charge. Sam was the guy for grand plans and stirring speeches. Dean’d be one of those advance scouts, using his experience as a hunter to get close and personal with the target, watching for something to give away the weak points. And he’d plant himself… there, behind that gorse bush, a glint of unwrapped metal or glass. Man, he loved being right.

With slow movements he unslung his bow and nocked an arrow. Then he thought hard at his brother.

_ SAM _

_ what’s the matter are you okay fuck where’s my knife we’re so close gotta make the others run for safety _

  That was the trouble with Sam’s overpowered brain - it had about fifty things going on at once and he struggled to narrow his focus when speaking telepathically, even with Gabriel’s tutelage. Maybe especially with Gabriel’s tutelage. 

_ CALM _ , Dean thought, pushing slightly. He’d discovered in the past that he could make certain emotions stick if he made them strong enough in Sam’s mind.  _ SCOUT. KILL. READY? _

_   need to do it in one shot should we run for it what if there’s more than one I’ll tell Jo and wheel back soon as everyone’s inside _

_   JO  _ Dean confirmed, and held his bow in the curve of his body, ready. 

Sam reached the shadow of the wall where the postern gate was concealed. He turned and waved for Castiel to catch him up. Dean lingered at the back, staying low, and drew a long breath.

_ NOW _

He dropped to one knee and spun, pulling the arrow back and loosing in one smooth movement. In his peripheral vision he was aware of the gate slamming open as Jo pushed through and raised her bow. Then he was sprinting for the bush, knife in his off-hand and Jo catching him up with long legs. 

The man sprawled on the ground had an arrow in his throat and another in his chest. One hand clutched at a battered metal telescope. Dean raised an eyebrow at Jo as she joined him.

  “Not bad, Harvelle.” 

  She gave him a quick grin but it vanished too fast. “There’ll be more.”

  “Wanna take a stroll round the park?” Dean crouched down and rummaged through the scout’s pockets. A couple of knives, a flint-and-steel, some decent boots that looked about Castiel’s size. He tugged them off and tied the laces together, then stuffed the telescope into one and the firestarter into the other. “You want the pig-stickers?”

  “Sure.” Jo slid the knives through her belt and jerked her head left. “Let’s go.”

It was almost a pleasure to be hunting with Jo again. They moved well together, instinctive through long years of practice, needing little more than a glance to communicate. For a little while Dean lost himself in the physicality of it, in the feeling of doing what he was good at with an old friend. It was easy, comfortable, simple. Then Jo stilled, focused like a bloodhound, and he remembered they were hunting people. 

A boulder, half-overgrown with weeds. It was a familiar landmark for Lawrence hunters, but currently there was a shadow that didn’t belong. With a nod, Jo went left and Dean right. He crept closer, closer, lungs shallow and feet heavy for all their silence. Then the shadow moved, extended an arm, and Dean saw a throwing dagger aimed in Jo’s direction. He lunged sideways, crashing through a bush, startling the scout who hurled the knife at him reflexively. It spun past his ear, making him flinch, and Jo’s arrow thunked into the scout’s eye a second later. The scout fell back with a cut-off scream and Dean ducked in swiftly to finish the job with a throat-slash. When he looked up, Jo was scowling at him.

  “What?”

  “What assholery was that, making yourself a target? I can take care of myself, Dean. And how do you think I’d explain to Sam, if you’d gotten hit?”

  “You’re welcome,” he muttered. 

  She sighed. “Yeah, yeah, thanks for distracting the shot. Just, quit with the damn heroics, okay?”

  “You ain’t the boss of me, Joanna Beth,” he said, grinning at her.

  “Oh, you want I should have a word with your husband?” She narrowed her eyes and he held up his hands in surrender. “That’s what I thought. Come on, let’s head back. I don’t reckon there’s anyone else around here and the longer we stay out, the more likely we are to be ambushed.”

Yeah, he’d missed having Jo around.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't until later, when he and Jo were safely back inside, and Ellen had hugged him hello and Bobby had shaken his hand; later, after he'd led Castiel through the door of his old home, left empty and cold in his father's absence; later, after Sam had taken their old room, quietly shutting the door in Gabriel's face, leaving Dean the master bedroom with Dad's blankets still on the bed and the smell of the man thick in the musty air; later... his hands started to shake.

He stood dumbly at the foot of the bed, staring as Castiel prodded the mattress with a disapproving air. The cover was olive green, gorse green, like the gorse the scout had sprawled amongst with an arrow in his throat, Dean's arrow in his throat and a hand outstretched. 

  "Dean?" Castiel was looking at him, eyes soft. "We don't have to sleep here if it makes you uncomfortable. I'm sure Balthazar would be happy to swap."

  "He tried to scream," Dean said, and his voice sounded flat, oddly distant, like there was wool in his ears.

  Castiel's brow wrinkled. "Balthazar?"

  "No... I don't even know his name. I killed him and I don't even know his name." 

He clenched his fists, digging nails into the palms, and felt the shaking up to his elbows. They'd never been clean, his hands, but this was the first time he'd killed a human in cold blood. Castiel reached for them and he jerked backwards. 

  "You can't hurt me, Dean," Castiel said gently, and closed firm fingers around his right wrist. Dean shuddered mutely as Castiel uncurled his hand and pressed a kiss into the palm. "I am here. I will always be here."

  “This is stupid,” Dean forced out. “I mean, I… Gordon didn’t set me off.”

  “It isn’t stupid to feel,” Castiel said, and kissed his other palm. “And, as I recall, you were a little preoccupied with saving my life after Gordon. You are reacting this time because you have time to react, and because you are a good man. If you could kill without it touching you, I would be more concerned.”

  “What if I can’t… y’know?” Dean gnawed at his lip and looked away. “We’re here to fight a war, Cas. I’m no use if I can’t fight.”

  Castiel let go of his wrist and put both hands around his face, forcing him to meet fierce blue eyes. “Your value does not lie on your capacity for violence,” his husband growled. “It lies in your love of others, your loyalty and willingness to sacrifice everything for their sake, no matter how it hurts your gentle heart. You can do this, and you will. And yes, it will hurt.” He leaned up and pressed a tender kiss to Dean’s lips. “And I will make it better.”

Dean chased after Castiel’s mouth, grounding himself in that soft warmth. His hands were steadied by the muscles of Castiel’s waist and he tugged, drawing his husband closer. Castiel opened sweetly and he licked into the welcoming wetness with a soft groan. He felt Castiel’s arms slide around his ribs, holding him together, and some of the chill receded from his skin. This was sanity, this press and hold, breathing into the intimate space created between their bodies. This was life.

Sam cleared his throat obnoxiously loudly in the doorway. Dean flipped him off but otherwise didn’t move. 

  “Classy,” Sam said with amusement in his voice. “When you guys are ready, Bobby’s calling a Council meeting.”

  Castiel began to pull away and Dean tightened his grip. “Don’t need us for that.”

  “You want to leave Sam on his own, managing the introduction of Gabriel and Balthazar to the Council?” Castiel said, and Dean reluctantly let go. 

  Sam was looking around the room with an odd expression. “Feels weird to be back,” he said quietly. “Like… we don’t belong here any more. I think I’d still been calling it home in my mind, but it isn’t.”

  Castiel shrugged. “People used to say that home is where you are recognised and welcomed.”

  “Well, that first part is true,” Dean said, shepherding them both towards the door. “Fingers crossed we’ve got the second part as well.”

It had started to sleet outside, grey clouds shutting out the light. They turned up their collars and hurried along the path to the hall. Balthazar was lounging in the lee of the building when they arrived, chatting to Jody Mills with a sly grin. Dean shot him a warning glare and the grin widened. 

  “Just making friends with my hostess, Dean,” he said smoothly. “It pays to be nice to the locals.”

  Jody snorted. “If that’s how you make friends, I’d hate to see you making enemies. I fixed him a snack and he insulted my cooking.”

  “The bread was so hard I think I broke a tooth.”

  “I’d like to see you do better, pretty boy.”

  “I suspect it’s the only way I’m going to avoid food poisoning during my stay.”

  “If you break my kitchen I will shoot you.”

  “I’ve seen that tragedy you call a crossbow and remain unconcerned.”

  Castiel frowned at Balthazar. “Stop being so rude.”

  “Don’t worry about Jody,” Dean said. “She gives as good as she gets.”

  “It’s fine, Cas,” Sam added with a grin. “They’re joking.”

  “I’m not joking about the bread,” Balthazar said, touching his jaw. “I may need you to take a look, Cassie.”

  “Don’t be such a big baby.” Jody jerked her head towards the door. “Go on, get in there. Gabriel’s had the Council to himself for five minutes - it’s about time the cavalry arrived.”

Sam’s grin vanished abruptly. He pushed forwards, shoving the door open with his shoulder. Dean and Castiel exchanged a glance and followed on his heels. The hall was the same as ever - low-ceilinged and dimly lit, with the Council sat in their chairs on a low dais at the far end. The floor in front of them was covered in a shimmering illusion of Lawrence, seen from above, and the Topeka army. Bobby, Ellen and Rufus were leaning forward, frowning intently as they studied the layout of troops. There was no screaming, no one was on fire or calling for the punishment of all Abominations. Sam took a couple more halting steps and stopped on the edge of the tactical overview, looking confused. 

  Gabriel looked up from the side of the room, one hand outstretched to maintain the illusion. “Hey, guys. What kept you?”


	6. Chapter 6

Dean was on edge throughout the Council meeting, waiting for someone to raise the question about whose fault it was that Lawrence was under siege in the first place. His input on the battle plan was terse, verging on monosyllabic. Not that anybody noticed in the face of Gabriel’s earnest strategizing, which appeared to surprise no one except Dean. When he raised an eyebrow at Sam, he got a shrug in response. 

  Castiel leaned in. “He can be serious when it matters,” he said quietly, and Dean abruptly remembered Gabriel was the one who got them both to Purgatory when they were hunted as children. 

  “No, no, we don’t want to go out after them,” Gabriel was saying, waving his hands. “Make them do the work, climbing the walls.”

  “What if they set fire to them?” Rufus objected.

  “I’d like to seem them try.” Gabriel grinned widely. “There isn’t a fire Kali can’t control.”

  “We don’t have enough people to hold the entire wall.”

  “They won’t come at the whole thing. Sam and I will use illusions to funnel them where we want them.”

  “And I can arm the ones you do have,” Balthazar added, sounding bored. “Weaponry is rather my speciality.”

  “That’ll do for a day or so,” Bobby said gruffly. “It ain’t gonna win the war though.”

  “Cut off the head,” Dean said, and everyone looked at him. He shrugged. “What? Take out the leaders and the rest’ll fold. It ain’t a new idea.”

  Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Send in a strikeforce just to target Alistair during battle, when everything’s chaotic. It could work.”

  “Not just Alistair,” Ellen said. She held Dean’s stare and there was a flicker of kindness under her steel. “He might be in charge but he isn’t the one who incited this.”

  “No,” Castiel said gruffly, and Dean startled slightly as a hand gripped his wrist. “You cannot ask Dean to kill his own father.”

  “I’m not asking.”

  Dean touched Castiel’s shoulder lightly. “It’s okay, Cas,” he murmured. “I knew it before we came.”

It wasn’t altogether a lie. The kernel of it was why there was a tree with his bloody knuckle-prints in its bark. He’d thought of running from it but Sam shot that down quickly, and anyway it wouldn’t have worked. No point running from your own shadow. Ellen’s words had the dull impact of a hit already anticipated. It’d hurt plenty later but, for now, Dean could absorb the blow and keep going, get the job done. He avoided looking in Sam’s direction. 

  “Who are the hit teams then?” Balthazar said brightly. “I’ll sort out some toys for them.”

  “Me and Jo, for one.” Dean frowned thoughtfully. “Cesar and Jesse. Eileen and Ennis.”

  “Not Jody?” Balthazar said.

  “Jody’s many things, but subtle ain’t one of ‘em. You want her on the walls, yelling at the bastards.” He leaned over Gabriel’s illusion. “If you can get ‘em to concentrate on this section by the orchard, it gives you some room to manoeuvre behind the wall and my team can slip out the postern gate easy enough.”

  “So what do we need?” Rufus said, rubbing his hands together briskly. 

  “Stones,” Balthazar said. “Small ones, good for throwing. I can have some fun with your arrows too, but stones make a bigger bang.”

  “Billhooks, for pulling down any ladders they try to put up,” Ellen added. “Water, for drinking as well as fires. We can’t rely on Kali to be everywhere. And I’m guessing Castiel will want some kind of first aid station set up nearby.”

  “Yes please,” he said. “I can’t use my power constantly so I will keep it for emergencies.”

  “Actually, that’s a good point,” Sam said. “We’re gonna need some snacks up on the walls for Gabriel and Kali and I. Using this stuff really takes us out of it so don’t think of us as an unlimited resource. We’ll put the fear of God in them to start with, but after about twenty minutes of heavy lifting we’re gonna need to sit down.”

  “Speak for yourself, weakling,” Gabriel scoffed.

  Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s not a competition, Gabe.”

  “Then you’re doing it wrong.”

Bobby cleared his throat pointedly, but before he could bring the conversation back on track there was a ragged scream from just outside that kept on and on as Dean lunged towards the door. He wrenched it open, reaching for his knife, and stopped. Then staggered as Sam and Ellen ran into his back. 

A man lay writhing on the ground, engulfed in flame and screaming. Kali stood nearby watching with a small satisfied smile. People were standing to gather, horrified faces flicking rapidly from her to the burning man. 

  “Kali!” Sam pushed past Dean, all worried eyes and pacifying hands. “What’re you doing?”

  “He spat at my clothes,” she said flatly, not looking up. “So I am burning his.”

The man was still screaming, high and urgent, but it lacked the note of agony Dean thought would be normal from someone on fire. He squinted at the writhing figure on the floor. His clothes were black and dissolving in flame, but there were no burn marks on the increasingly exposed skin. 

  Bobby shouldered his way to the front with a thunderous expression. “What in the sphincter of hell are you playing at, girl?”

  “I am teaching this insolent pig some manners.”

  Bobby drew in a deep breath, gearing up for a proper yelling match, when Jo cut him off. “About time, too.” She folded her arms and threw a challenging look at Bobby. “Kubrick’s always been an asshole. Our guests,” she stressed the word, “shouldn’t be expected to put up with his crap.”

Kubrick was whimpering now, as the flames sank into flickering tongues over the last scraps of clothing and then faded. He curled protectively around his crotch in the road, his pale skin dusted in ashes but otherwise unmarked. The gathered crowd murmured amongst themselves, still keep a wide berth around Kali, but Dean noted that no one stepped forward to help Kubrick. And some of the murmurs were taking on a distinctly impressed flavour. He had no doubt that was coloured by the approaching Topeka army, but every little shift in attitude helped. Maybe this wasn’t quite the disaster he’d feared when he first walked out of the Council hall.

  Jo turned her back on Bobby and held out a hand. “Good to meet you properly. I’m Jo.”

  Kali looked at her for a long moment and then took her hand in a careful shake. “You are the one who killed the enemy scouts as we arrived. I will be pleased to fight alongside such a strong warrior.”

  “Well, damn,” Gabriel said quietly, into Dean’s ear. “That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen her make friends. Especially with a hunter.”

  Castiel had shrugged out of his coat and draped it over Kubrick’s shivering torso. “You cannot stay here,” he said. “You will freeze.”

  Kubrick flinched away from his gentle touch and staggered upright, pupils blown wide and terrified. “Don’t you fucking touch me!” he gasped, swinging his head like a cornered bull. “None of you freaks lay a fucking finger on me!” He pushed his way through the crowd and ran down on the road. 

  Castiel sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Someone should go and check on him. He’s probably in shock.”

  “I’ll go,” Dean said. “We’re about done here anyhow. Get your coat back, while I’m at it.” 

  Bobby wagged a finger at Kali. “No more burning people, you hear?”

  Kali raised an imperious eyebrow. “Is that not what you need me to do?”

  “Well… yeah. But just the bad guys!”

  “The ones who insult me and threaten me with bodily harm?”

  Ellen gave Bobby a shove. “I’d stop talking, before she ties you in knots. Go on, Dean, the situation’s under control.” 

Dean nodded his thanks and strode after the naked idiot.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short one due to being super busy. Sorry!

Kubrick was still struggling with the latch on his door, cursing his frozen fingers and the sticking metal, when Dean caught him up. He leaned over the guy’s shoulder with a brusque “I’ll get it” and crowded into the house on Kubrick’s heels. Kubrick stumbled forward, putting a few feet of distance between them, and turned with a bluster of indignation.

  “Hey, I didn’t say you could come in!”

  Dean slammed the door shut, noting Kubrick’s flinch, and leaned against it, studying the nails of his punching hand with affected casualness. “Here’s the thing,” he said, keeping his voice light. “I get that you’ve always been told how Blasphemies are evil and eat babies and all. I sat through the same lessons you did. Then I met some, and it turned out they’re just people, same as anyone else. They feel the same things as us, need the same things, want the same things. And you know what I did with that experience? I let it change my mind.”

  Kubrick shook his head vehemently. “We're better than them.”

  “Better, huh?” Dean rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as the heat in his chest stoked up another notch. “Better how, exactly? Coz we both know Sammy can take you in a straight fight, I seen it happen in hunter training. And he sure as hell can do it with his mind. But he don't, which gives him the moral high ground. So explain how you're better than him.”

  “I'm pure,” Kubrick said waving his hands and then clutching at the slipping coat. “Pure blood. Pure human.”

  The anger swelled, pushing Dean forward. “No, what you are is unevolved,” he snapped. “Why'd you go for Kali? There's a whole bunch of Blasphemies here, so why her? I think it's coz she's a woman and you weren't too sure about your chances against any of the guys but a woman? Gotta be weaker than you, right? And that don't make you better, you dick, that makes you a bully.”

  “She burned me!” Kubrick scrabbled backwards until he hit the edge of his kitchen table. “I'm the victim here!”

  “What, you expected her to just take it? Is that what you woulda done in her place?” Dean crowded into his space, and Kubrick curled his shoulders in against the anger boiling off him. “No, you'd have killed anyone who spat on you. Yet here you are without a scratch because, despite some well-founded anger management issues, Kali is better than you in every respect. Now, I don't expect you to change your mind coz that'd require some kinda miracle and the world's precious short of those. But I do expect you to change your attitude. Because if you assault any of the people who came here to help you, you fucking moron, I'll deal with you myself. And I ain't fussed about keeping the moral high ground.”

For a moment it felt good, it felt righteous, feeling the protective anger pulse through him and watching Kubrick cower before it. Then he blinked and for a split-second he saw himself standing over a scared, naked man with raised fists, having come into his home uninvited. The heat drained away and he took a step back, suddenly unable to look at Kubrick. He imagined Castiel’s quiet disappointment and swallowed hard.

He'd never been in Kubrick's place before. The man was closer to his dad's generation - and opinions - so they hadn't been buddies, even before the whole exile thing. It smelled of damp and dust, and lamps burned down to the wick. Everything was put away, without any little touches that made it welcoming. There were cobwebs in the corner, and only one candle on the table. Only one chair. Dean remembered the chaotic warmth of Castiel's nest and his shoulders sank a little further.

There was a stoneware jug of weak ale on the sideboard, and a single mug upside-down to dry. He poured out a drink and set it on the table in front of Kubrick. He pulled out the chair, legs scraping loudly across the floor, and sat hunched over clasped hands.

  “There's this guy,” he said quietly, eyes down. “Bullied his whole life. Beaten, starved, had dogs set on him, the whole nine. Some bastards even tried to burn him and his brother alive. All he’d ever known was violence and hate. One day he came across some dude in the middle of nowhere, out cold and badly injured. And despite everything he’d learned to expect from strangers, he healed him up. It ain’t what you or I woulda done. But this guy, he’s different. Kinder, even though the world punishes kindness. Fuck knows how he does it, how he’s kept that kernel of goodness through everything, but there you have it.”

  Kubrick cleared his throat cautiously. “What’s your point?”

  “My point?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “Well, I guess my point is still the same one. Who’s the better man, Kubrick? The one who spits on those who’ve come to help him, or the one who gives his coat to a naked stranger that clearly hates him?”

  For a second Kubrick’s brow wrinkled in thought. Then he scowled. “You’ve always been a Blasphemy-lover, Winchester. First your freak brother, then your freak husband. You’ve always turned your back on Normal company.”

  “Ever wonder why that is?” Dean shot back. “Seeing as you’re such a fucking joy to be around.”

Kubrick opened his mouth to reply and was cut off by a heavy fist banging on the door.

  “Dean,” Sam called, voice muffled by wood. There was an edge to it that had Dean up and outside in a second. His brother shoved a hand through windswept hair, and took a deep breath. “They’re here. And they want to talk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider giving kudos. It makes writers happy. :-)


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